man’s best friend

I told the guy– he was watering his lawn with a
hose– I said, you ever squirt my dog with your hose
again and you’ll have to deal with me.
and he just kept on watering, looking straight ahead,
and he said, I ain’t worried, you guys who talk about
doing it, you never do it.
he was an old white-haired guy, kind of dumb, I could
feel his dullness radiating off of him.
I yanked the hose from his hand, turned him and
sunk a hard right to his gut.
he dropped like a ton of crap and just stayed on his
back on the lawn, holding his stomach and breathing
hard.
he looked pitiful.
I picked up the hose and watered him down good,
soaked his clothes, then gave him a blast of water
in the face and walked off.
went down to the store and got a fifth of scotch
and a six pack.
when I walked back he was gone.
I went back to my apartment and told Marie that I
had taken care of the matter with the guy who
squirted the dog.
she asked me, what did you do, kill him?
and I told her, no, I had just turned him around.
and she wanted to know, what did I mean, I
turned him around?
and I told her, never mind, where are the drinking
glasses?

and then the dog came walking in.
Koko.

you gotta know I liked him.
plenty.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1991
Source
Original manuscript